Tale Of An Untold Truth
by Gypsy sans Jester
Summary: When Jem, Sing-Sing and Gypsy meet Alley Cat, Ice and others, they soon find that their lives are mysteriously connected. As details are pieced together they begin to uncover a terrible secret....the truth.......
1. King O' Brooklyn My Arse

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Aight, folks, if you couldn't tell by the disclaimer, it's me, Gypsy!! But this time I'm back with two of my buds, Sing-Sing and Alley Cat. This is a story we're working on together………..Enjoy!!!!  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
*King O' Brooklyn My Arse*  
  
  
  
"Love her as in childhood,  
  
Though feeble, old, and gray,  
  
For you'll never miss a mother's love,  
  
Till she's buried beneath the clay."  
  
The song filled the cold night air as four drunken newsies made their way down the street.  
  
"Kevin Ba-ARR-ee gave 'is young life, fer te proice o' libert-EE..." Sing- Sing belted out.  
  
She threw her empty shot glass to the ground as Jem hit her over the head.  
  
"Yer off key," she muttered, and Sing-Sing rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head.  
  
"It's a fine life, carryin' da sumthin' through da slums... whups." Gypsy fell over on her  
  
hands and kness, and Spot tripped over the stooped figure.  
  
"Hey, what da hell was dat foah?" he yelled.  
  
"Ah, feck off Conlon. Ye aren't te leadah o' Brooklyn 'ere. Oi, Gypsy!" Sing-Sing called.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ye alright?"  
  
"Ise is fine..."  
  
"Yeah, well youse had bettah sod off before Ise soaks ya!" Spot shouted in anger, standing up and brushing his shirt off.  
  
"Would ya ever jes 'ave a good shit fer yeerself, Conlon?" Jem spat.  
  
"Don't talk ta me like dat! Ise is da King o' Brooklyn!"  
  
"Och, aye. On te ground pukin' yer eyes out, ye are," Jem replied.  
  
"Gypsy, tell yoah friends dat Ise won't be spoken ta like dat!"  
  
"Tell us yeerself! King o' Brooklyn my arse!" shouted Sing-Sing.  
  
"Yeah, well at least Ise ain't some Irish trash like youse!"  
  
"That's it Conlon!" Sing-Sing yelled before tackling him to the ground, ready to pound the living daylights out of him.  
  
"Ye went a wee bit far," Jem said before giving him a good kick in the ribs.  
  
Sing-Sing grabbed his collar and bashed her head against his. She looked up, but all she could see were flashing lights and polka dots.  
  
"Get offa him. Dough Ise won't say he din't desoive dat, callin' da Irish trash an' all," Gypsy said, dragging Sing-Sing off of Spot's chest.  
  
"Gypsy, ye never told me ye had a twin..." she mumbled.  
  
"What? A twin? Ise ain't got no twin, Sing."  
  
"Then why in te name of te Virgin Mary are there two o' ye?" she asked before passing out.  
  
  
  
AN: Well…… not much so far……. But more's to come soon!!!! REVIEW!!!!!! 


	2. Damn Hangover

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Hey! We're back with another chapter, so thanx if your gonna read it…….. And you better be about to read it……. Or about to review…….  
  
Comments:  
  
Ozma: Thanx for reviewing! *Sniff* Our first review! Waaaaahhhhhhh!! *dries eyes with a tissue* *ahem* Anyway……. Glad you like the accent. Thanx again!!  
  
Rae Kelly: Thanks for the review!  
  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
*Damn Hangover*  
  
  
  
Spot woke up the next morning, yawning sleepily. He swung his feet over the side of his bed and stepped down, squashing Gypsy in the small of her back.  
  
"Ow!" She yelped and shoved Spot over.  
  
"Aw, Ise didn't hoit ya, did I Gyps?" Spot asked, ruffling her hair with his hand.  
  
"Why Ise oughta……" Gypsy started, shaking her fist at him and sitting up.  
  
Spot smirked and walked away, screaming out, "Everybody up! Time ta sell da papahs!"  
  
"Ise'll get 'im foah dat," Gypsy growled to no one in particular.  
  
"Och, leave the poor pup alone, Blair O'Riley," Sing said as she jumped down from her bed.  
  
"Me 'ead hurts," Jem whined as she stood up. She wavered and grabbed the bedpost to keep from falling.  
  
"A wee bit too much alcohol foah somebody," Gypsy sang, in a poor imitation of Irish brogue, that ended up being a mix of her natural Brooklyn accent and an Irish one.  
  
"That was pathetic, Blair," Sing said, referring to the accent.  
  
"Shuddup. An' don't say my real name," Gypsy said when she walked past Sing, hitting her upside the head and walking off towards the bathroom, rubbing her back where Spot had stepped on it.  
  
"That hurt!" Sing-Sing yelled after her.  
  
"Watch me not care!" Gypsy yelled back.  
  
"STOP YELLING!!!" Jem screamed, stamping her foot.  
  
All noise ceased as every pair of eyes in the Brooklyn lodging house turned to stare at her.  
  
"What?!" Jem yelled at everyone, "Ye got a problem with me?  We can take tis  
  
outside!  C'mon, put up your dukes an' ye'll see what the Irish are made of!"  
  
Everyone raised their eyebrows simultaneously.  
  
"Uh…… Jem?" Sing said.  
  
"Hmm?" Jem asked.  
  
"Ye have problems," Sing said, lightly punching Jem on the shoulder. "But no one cares, it's te feckin' hangover..."  
  
"Carry on!" Sing called out to everyone.  
  
Normal activity returned to the bunkroom and Sing-Sing made her way towards the washroom where most of the other newsies were gathering, grumbling about having to get up so early and about how loud Jem had screamed.  
  
"Damn Irish drinking habits," one of the newsies named Talon mumbled.  
  
He was promptly smacked over the head by Gypsy, then Sing, and was lastly hit by Spot.  
  
Meanwhile, Jem was left standing there alone in the middle of the bunkroom, having a head ache and being incredibly confused.  
  
"Damn hangover," she muttered finally, following after Sing.  
  
  
  
AN: Review!!! Here's a haiku about why you should review:  
  
If you write reviews  
  
I won't have to murder you.  
  
Isn't that lovely?  
  
  
  
I had a weird day…… can you tell? Anywayz….. Review!!! 


	3. News From Manhattan

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Hola!!! Thought you could get rid of us, eh? Nope, we're tenacious little peoples……..lol, I've had a really bad cold and I'm not making any sense…….  
  
Comments:  
  
Duchess and Ice dancer: Plot? You want plot? Well, you're gonna get some, so just keep reading…… everything and everyone in this story are there for a specific reason……. If something seems random at first just keep reading and everything will make perfect sense……  
  
Jewelz and Jazz: Glad you like it so far…. Sorry you're not in it yet Jazz…… don't worry….. just be patient….. love ya both!…..  
  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
*News From Manhattan*  
  
  
  
"So how did I end up back at te lodgin' house?" asked Sing as she scrubbed her face with a towel in the washroom.  
  
"What do youse mean?" Gypsy asked while she combed her hair.  
  
"All I remember is seein' two o' ye, and then everything went black….."  
  
"Ye passed out," Jem said, leaning on the counter.  
  
"An' we'se had ta carry yoah lousy carcass all da way back heah," Spot said in mock-annoyance.  
  
"Foah someone as short an' small as you, youse shoah were a pain in da ass ta carry," Spot said.  
  
"I wouldn't be makin' short jokes if I were you, Conlon," Jem said, grinning.  
  
Spot glared at her, "Ise ain't gonna even grace dat with a response."  
  
"Ye jes did," Sing-Sing pointed out.  
  
Gypsy snickered and Spot smacked her in the arm.  
  
"Everybody out!  We gotta get to da distribution office!" Spot yelled over the noise.  
  
All the newsies stopped what they were doing and began filing out of the bathroom.  
  
"C'mon," Spot said to the three girls.  
  
"Yes your highness," they all sang in unison.  
  
Spot rolled his eyes and walked out of the washroom into the bunkroom, and then down the stairs and out of the lodging house.  The girls all followed.  
  
"Anythin' in-terestin' happenin' today?" Sing asked Gypsy and Jem as they walked down the crowded streets of Brooklyn.  
  
"No, not dat Ise know of," replied Gypsy.  
  
"'Ay Spot!" Gypsy called.  
  
"What?" Spot asked, falling back so he was walking beside her.  
  
"Anyting interestin' goin on taday?"  
  
"Nah, why?"  
  
"Ise was jist wonderin'.  Can't I ask a simple question without you wantin' ta know why?" Gypsy asked indignantly.  
  
"Nope," Spot said, throwing one of his arms across her shoulders and the other arm across Sing's shoulders since she was also walking next to him.  
  
They reached the distribution office and waited outside, since it wasn't open yet and the gate was closed.  
  
"Me 'ead hurts," Jem complained.  
  
"Didn't we already go through this?" Sing asked.  
  
"Don't worry Jem, I'm shoah dat aftah youse walk around a bit it will go away," Gypsy said consolingly, patting her arm.  
  
"Spot, isn't dat Kix?" Sing asked, pointing to a small boy running down the road towards them.  
  
"Yeah, Ise wondah what he's doin in Brooklyn," Spot said.  
  
The four of them watched as Kix approached an older Brooklyn newsie named Bones.  Kix asked him something and Bones pointed in Spot's direction.  
  
Kix said something else to Bones and then ran over to where Spot, Jem, Sing- Sing, and Gypsy were standing.  
  
"What are youse doin' in Brooklyn, Kix?" Spot asked the eleven year-old.  
  
Kix looked at Spot with a sort of awe, "Ise, um, well dere's a new goil in Manhattan an' Jack was wonderin' if any of youse wanted ta meet 'er," Kix said really fast.  
  
Spot looked at Jem, "What did 'e jist say?" He whispered.  
  
"Well, Ise can go ta Manhattan taday, without selling my papes," Gypsy said, "Can anybody else?"  
  
"I 'ave enough money ta skip a day," Jem said.  
  
"Ditto," Sing added.  
  
They all looked at Spot for his reply.  
  
"Well of course, I 'ave enough money, with all da papes Ise sell," Spot said, "C'mon, Kix, we'll walk with you."  
  
"Really?" Kix asked, disbelieving that the person he practically worshiped was offering to be seen in public with him.  
  
"Yeah," Spot laughed, "Let's go, kid."  
  
"Hey, Talon!" Spot called out to the newsie when he passed by him.  
  
"Yeah Spot?" Talon asked.  
  
"I'm gonna be in Manhattan taday, so yoah in charge."  
  
"Shoah," Talon said before turning to continue his previous conversation.  
  
"What's da goil's name?" Gypsy asked Kix.  
  
"I dunno," he answered.  
  
"Do ye know anythin' about her?" Sing asked.  
  
"Nope," Kix answered truthfully, "Only dat she came last night an' dere was a guy with her an' dey said dat dey wanted ta be newsies."  
  
"Did ye hear anythin' about te guy?" Jem asked.  
  
Kix shook his head.  
  
They walked the rest of the way in almost total silence, except for when Jem, Sing and Gypsy would suddenly decide that it was too quiet and that Irish songs needed to be sung, whereupon they were promptly smacked by Spot and told to shut up.  
  
  
  
AN: Stay tuned for the next chapter!!!! 


	4. Oh No

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Yay!!! Ten reviews!!!! *jumps for joy* We feel so loved!!! Though, more would make us feel loved even more……hint hint…….hint hint……  
  
Comments:  
  
Duchess: Everybody loves a plot……..what is with you people?? J/k……plots are very nice……  
  
Jewelz: Glad you like the solo…….you're funny when you're drunk…..lol……  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
*Oh No*  
  
  
  
When they reached the lodging house, Jem, Gypsy, Kix and Spot went inside.  
  
Sing stopped to talk to one of the newsies sitting outside.  
  
"Do ye know where te new girl newsie is, Dutchy?" Sing asked him.  
  
"I tink she's upstairs," he replied.  
  
"Tanks," Sing said.  
  
"No problem," Dutchy said and he turned to say something to Specs who was sitting next to him.  
  
Sing walked into the lodging house and caught up with her friends. "Te girl's opstairs," she told them.  
  
They all started upstairs, the four Brooklyn newsies and Kix who followed behind Spot, his eyes never leaving Spot's back, in awe of the leader of the Brooklyn newsies.  
  
All the Manhattan newsies were still waking up as they entered the bunkroom, because the Brooklyn newsies were always up earlier than Manhattan.  
  
They saw the girl right away and Spot walked over, followed closely by Kix and not-so-closely by the girls.  
  
"I hear yoah a new Manhattan newsie," he said, stating the obvious.  
  
"What's yoah name?" Gypsy asked the girl.  
  
"Are ye Irish?" Jem said, jokingly.  
  
The girl smiled. "No, I'm not Irish, that I know of. My name's Alley Cat, or Cat for short. And this is Will." She said, pointing to the boy sitting next to her.  
  
"I'm Spot, King of da Newsies," Spot said, proudly.  
  
"Shuddup," Gypsy said as she hit him over the head, "Who are youse kiddin'? Yoah jist da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies, Spot," She said to him and to Alley Cat she said, "I'm Gypsy."  
  
"Me name is Sing-Sing, or jes Sing," the short Irish girl added.  
  
"I'm Jem," the other girl said with a little bow.  
  
"I'm so glad you're here! I thought I was the only girl newsie in Manhattan!" Alley Cat said happily.  
  
A long silence came over them and the three Brooklyn girls exchanged glances.  
  
"What?" Cat asked. "What did I say?"  
  
"Eh..." said Jem.  
  
"Uh…." said Gypsy.  
  
"We're frem..." said Sing.  
  
"Brooklyn," the three girls said in unison.  
  
"Oh, um, okay. I guess I'm the only girl here then," Cat said somewhat disappointed.  
  
"Don't worry, you have me here!" Will said, putting his arm around her.  
  
"Ooooooooooooooo!" said Gypsy with a smirk.  
  
"How old are youse again?" Spot said jokingly to Gypsy.  
  
"Shuddup," she muttered.  
  
Cat turned red and said to Will, "I know." She sighed disappointedly.  
  
"So," said Jem, "What's yer real name?"  
  
"It's Charlotte. Charlotte Thompson," Cat replied.  
  
Suddenly Jem's smile disappeared. "What is te name of yer fadder?" she asked carefully.  
  
"Richard. Why?" Cat asked confusedly.  
  
Jem stood up and pushed everyone out of her way as she ran out of the room. The other newsies looked out the doorway after her, glancing nervously at each other with puzzled expressions.   
  
"What's the matter with her?" Cat wondered aloud.  
  
Everyone thought about it silently for a minute and then Sing gripped Gypsy's arm and whispered, "Wasn't Jem's da keelled boy semeone named Richard Thompson?"  
  
"Was that Jeminie McDanly?" Cat asked, after hearing what Sing said. Gypsy nodded.  
  
"Oh no." 


	5. A Murder or a Framing?

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Hey, sorry this took so long!! Alley Cat…….Grrrrrrr…..Just kidding!!! Well, here it is!  
  
Comments:  
  
Jewelz: Heh, what can we say? You're too fun to pick on…….lol……..We love you!!! *cough* *cough*  
  
Duchess: Eh, the plots about as thick as water right now………….  
  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
*A Murder or a Framing?*  
  
  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
"What? How do ye know Jem's real name?" Sing-Sing asked.  
  
"Do ye really wanna know?" Cat asked desperately.  
  
"Go on Char-I mean Cat," Will said, "You can tell them." He gave her an encouraging smile but Alley Cat still looked annoyed.  
  
"Okay, I'll tell you. My dad was put in prison for murder. He supposedly murdered Jem's father but I don't think he did it. I know he didn't! I tried to tell them that, but no one believed me."  
  
She paused and then added, "And now Jem probably hates me because of it. I knew her real name 'cause they wrote an article on it in the papes, about how her dad was here on a business trip from Ireland when he was killed and everything."  
  
Cat said quietly, "I saved the article and I read it all the time."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Gypsy softly, "Losing family shoah is hard, ain't it?"  
  
Spot, who was standing behind her, silently wrapped his arm around her waist.  
  
Sing smiled at them, "Te two o' ye bein civil. This has got te be a first."  
  
Slightly embarrassed, they stepped away from each other and raised their fists, pretending they were going to hit Sing.  
  
So Sing raised her fists too and jokingly said, "Ye want te fight? I could take on te both o' ye!"  
  
Cat smiled and said jealously, "It must be nice for the four of you to be as close as you are..."  
  
Will gave a fake groan and rolled his eyes, "Not more complaining about how lonely you are as the only girl newsie here!"  
  
"You try it sometime," Cat growled under her breath.  
  
Sing and Gypsy stopped their mock fight and exchanged glances.  
  
"We could stay here with ye if ye'd loike," Sing-Sing suggested.  
  
Cat's eyes light up. "You'd do that for me?!?" She asked, "I'd LOVE to come stay here!"  
  
"'Ay," said Spot sarcastically but a little hint of jealousy showed in his voice. "Yoah jist gonna abandon me like dat?"  
  
"We could come to Brooklyn every other week or so," Gypsy suggested.  
  
Spot glared at her, "We've been friends since we were five and youse leave Brooklyn foah a goil you've only known five minutes?" He questioned Gypsy.  
  
"No offense," he added to Alley Cat.  
  
"I'm not goin' ta beg, but Spot, we jes have ta...." Sing said.  
  
"Fine," Spot grumbled after a moments consideration and stomped out of the room.  
  
"Now we have to go find Jem and explain things to her," stated Sing-Sing, "It would probably be best if you didn't come, Cat."  
  
"All right," said Cat, "I gotta sell my papes anyways. See you later."  
  
"Bye," the other girls replied as they left the room.  
  
( ( ( ( (  
  
They finally found Jem sitting alone in a small alley. She looked away from them when she saw them coming.  
  
"Heya Jem," Gypsy said in a friendly voice.  
  
"That bitch's father killed me dad," Jem snarled at her friends without raising her head.  
  
"Cat says her dad din't do it," responded Sing.  
  
"That's what they all say," replied Jem angrily.  
  
"Knock it off Jemy," scolded Gypsy.  
  
"Yeah, give Cat a chance," added Sing.  
  
"'Cause we'se agreed ta stay in Manhattan with her some of da time," said Gypsy.  
  
"Och, really? An' how long have ye known tis girl? Five minutes an' ye're  
  
willin' te desert me fer tis li'l shite?! Well, here's what I say te that!" She yelled and spat on their feet.  
  
Jem got up and ran away, tears beginning to fall from her face and her friends watching in silence, not sure what to do.  
  
"We should pro'ly leave her alone fer awhoile," Sing suggested quietly.  
  
"Yeah, we'se should let 'er cool down. She'll probably find us at da Manhattan lodging house latah," Gypsy agreed.  
  
Sing nodded, but neither of them was sure when Jem would forgive them.  
  
  
  
AN: Alright, more to come soon, so stay tuned!!!! Or stay on this site and hit the refresh button every so often………REVIEW!!!!! Right now!!! Or I'll sue! You! It's true!!! Moooooooo…………..  
  
Eh heh……….too many excedrin for me………damn head ache……….(sound familiar Jewelz?) 


	6. She Ain't No Lady

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue.  
  
AN: Eh heh……Sorry this took so incredibly long……… Don't kill me, Jamie, please!!!!  
  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
*She Ain't No Lady*  
  
  
  
"Ise feel really bad, Sing," Gypsy sighed.  
  
She was sitting on the bed, untying her shoes after a long day of walking. Sing-Sing climbed up the ladder to a bunk above Gypsy.  
  
Her face popped down over the side of the bed.  
  
"Why?" Sing asked, temporarily forgetting the days past events.  
  
"'Cause we jist kinda desoited Jem, an' she didn't do nuthin' at all!"  
  
"Oh yes, that. I know what ye mean. An' poor Jem, she so touchy about family….."  
  
Sing-Sing sighed and grabbed the bottom of the bunk. She flipped over and hung momentarily before dropping to the ground.  
  
"'Ay, any of youse wanna play pokah?" Racetrack yelled out.  
  
Mush, Blink, and Jack were already sitting at the table.  
  
"Shoah ting," Gypsy called and Sing-Sing followed.  
  
They pulled out chairs and Gypsy sat forward, eager to play. Sing-Sing leaned back in her chair and pulled out a small bottle of liquor.  
  
"Hey, no drinkin' in heah, doll," Jack said. He reached over the table and grabbed the bottle from Sing-Sing's hand, before he cast it aside.  
  
"Doll? I'll teach ye to call me doll," she said in anger, barely came up to Jack's shoulder.  
  
"Youse wanna fight?" He asked, putting up his fists.  
  
Sing kicked him in the shin and scrumbled up one of the bunks.  
  
"Dat was a cheap shot!" Jack yelled.  
  
"Well, te Irish have always been known ta foight a wee bit derty."  
  
"Ise'll teach youse ta play fair-like toots," he mumbled.  
  
Sing snapped.  
  
"Toots?! That does it, Cowboy!" She cried and leapt off the bunk, tackling Jack to the ground.  
  
She rolled over him so he stood up before she could.  
  
"Fifty cents Jack skunks her!" Blink called out.  
  
"Ise dunno, Blink, Sing's lookin' moiderous," Gypsy replied.  
  
A yelp escaped Jack as Sing, who was lying on the ground, shot her foot up and kicked him in the groin.  
  
"Ise'll take dat bet, an' I'll double it too," Gypsy said.  
  
Jack grabbed Sing by the collar and threw her against the dresser. She moaned in pain as she slid down to the ground; one of the handles had jabbed into the small of her back.  
  
"Do we'se got an' undahstandin'?" Jack asked, towering over her.  
  
The other newsies gathered around, and Sing noticed Gypsy handing a dollar over to Blink.  
  
"Yeah," she panted, before swinging her legs around and knocking Jack's legs out from under him. His head hit the bunk and he lay on the ground for awhile.  
  
When he regained his wit, he leapt forward and tried to strangle Sing-Sing, but Racetrack held him back by his armpits.  
  
"Ise'll go wash up," he muttered, standing up.  
  
He wiped his lower lip on his sleeve, looked at the trace amount of blood, then turned and left the room.  
  
"I'll take dat!" Said Gypsy.  
  
Blink was walking off and she quickly slipped her hand into his pocket to retrieve the two dollars that was rightfully hers.  
  
"Heah, it's 'cause of you dat Ise won," she said, handing a dollar to Sing- Sing.  
  
"Thanks Gypsy, I tink I'll go ta bed," she mumbled and climbed up to what she thought was her bunk.  
  
Just then, Jack walked out of the bathroom. He made his way over to his bunk to see Sing-Sing lying on top.  
  
"Get offa my bunk, Sing!" He yelled.  
  
She calmly looked over.  
  
"Ye're lookin' fer more trouble, Cowboy?" She asked, mildly amused.  
  
"Jack, let it go, I'm tryin' ta sleep," Skittery mumbled into his pillow.  
  
"Alright, fine, take it!" He spat at Sing and yanked the pillow out from under her head.  
  
He settled on the ground and was quiet for a moment.  
  
"Ya know," he grumbled, "I shouldn't be treated like dis! I'm da best god damn newsie in dis city, an' I'm sleepin' on da ground!"  
  
"Jacky-boy, dat ain't no way ta treat a lady," Race whispered.  
  
"She ain't no lady!"  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: Please review!!! 


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